Poems can be a doorway into another world. Each one, a simple arrangement of otherwise ordinary words, that together evoke presence, wonder, possibility. So here is an invitation to pause, let the words wash over you and glimpse the world they offer you…
It’s a growing collection, and we’d love to hear which ones resonate with you and why, and find out about your favourites. Here is an index of our Words of Wonder.
Be empty of worrying Think of who created thought Why do you stay in prison When the door is wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear thinking. Live in silence. Flow down and down in always Widening rings of being. by Rumi A Rumi (Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī Maulana) classic from the ‘The Essential…
Now we’re ready to look at something pretty special. It is a duck, riding the ocean a hundred feet beyond the surf. No it isn’t a gull. A gull always has a raucous touch about him. This is some sort of duck, and he cuddles in the swells. He isn’t cold, and he is thinking…
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover and every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful will emerge, battered and beautiful When day comes we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid The new dawn blooms as we free it For there is always light, if…
Dear you, You who always have so many things to do so many places to be your mind spinning like fan blades at high speed each moment always a blur because you’re never still. I know you’re tired. I also know it’s not your fault. The constant brain-buzz is like a swarm of bees threatening…
Who shall bear hope, who else but us? After us is the long wind blowing off the ash pit of blasted genes, or after, the remarrying of the earth and the water. We must begin with the stone of mass resistance, and pile stone on stone on stone, begin cranking out whirlwinds of paper, the…
Crisply the bright snow whispered, Crunching beneath our feet; Behind us as we walked along the parkway, Our shadows danced, Fantastic shapes in vivid blue. Across the lake the skaters Flew to and fro, With sharp turns weaving A frail invisible net. In ecstasy the earth Drank the silver sunlight; In ecstasy the skaters Drank…
Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. What we need is here.…
Perhaps for a moment the typewriters will stop clicking, the wheels stop rolling the computers desist from computing, and a hush will fall over the city. For an instant, in the stillness, the chiming of the celestial spheres will be heard as earth hangs poised in the crystalline darkness, and then gracefully tilts. Let there…
Throw the doors wide open and step into the enormous palace inside of you. Breathe. Breathe into every space. Feel every sensation. The joyful warmth of shared love and the vast emptiness that sometimes echoes around our hearts. The excited clarity of inspired thought as well as that clustered maze inside our heads. That deep…
Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is your life falls into your own cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself…
I am not I. I am this one walking beside me whom I do not see, whom at times I manage to visit, and whom at other times I forget; the one who remains silent while I talk, the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate, the one who takes a walk when I am…
And if I speak of Paradise, then I’m speaking of my grandmother who told me to carry it always on my person, concealed, so no one else would know but me. That way they can’t steal it, she’d say. And if life puts you under pressure, trace its ridges in your pocket, smell its piney…
Each day the engine of my gratefulness must be coaxed and primed into action. Of course like any old clunker, it would just as soon stay put. For even after the labored start beats the inertia, and the plume of white smoke struggles upward, the same hills always appear, soaring daily—tall and ominous as before.…
Breathe, said the wind How can I breathe at a time like this, when the air is full of the smoke of burning tires, burning lives? Just breathe, the wind insisted. Easy for you to say, if the weight of injustice is not wrapped around your throat, cutting off all air. I need you to…
today I am breathing through fatigue, fear, and feeling overwhelmed. I breathe because when I breathe, I am reminded that I am alive. I am reminded that to be able to fill my body with air means that I have the ability to keep going. I am reminded that my time on earth may be…
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Will I ever be able to sing, even the…
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day. Emily Brontë As I look out of my window,…
In the land of words, I stand as still as a tree and let the words rain down on me. Come, rain, bring your knowledge and your music. Sing while I grow green and full. I’ll stand as still as a tree, and let your blessings fall on me. by Eloise Greenfield During these…
Happiness cannot be found through great effort and willpower, but is already here, right now, in relaxation and letting go. Don’t strain yourself, there is nothing to do. Whatever arises in the mind has no importance at all, because it has no reality whatsoever. Don’t become attached to it. Don’t pass judgement. Let the game…
Willing to experience aloneness, I discover connection everywhere; Turning to face my fear, I meet the warrior who lives within; Opening to my loss, I gain the embrace of the universe; Surrendering into emptiness, I find fullness without end. Each condition I flee from pursues me, Each condition I welcome transforms me And becomes itself…
At the ruins of the Seven Churches Inishmore Pick a crevice, a homey gap between stones and make it your own. Grow a life here from wind rain and the memories of ancients embedded in limestone. The bees will use you for their sweet honey. The rock will soften under your touch. You will draw…
We have a soul at times. No one’s got it non-stop, for keeps. Day after day, year after year may pass without it. Sometimes it will settle for awhile only in childhood’s fears and raptures. Sometimes only in astonishment that we are old. It rarely lends a hand in uphill tasks, like moving furniture, or…
And why not be flagrantly happy, really. The moon is full and rakish and spring keeps teasing the morning into taking off its sweater. By noon, everyone is blushing. In the garden, strawberries come up on their own, their fearless white flowers pre-wired for sweetness. Who cares the weeds are already releasing their onslaught of…
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else…
One morningwe will wake upand forget to buildthat wall we’ve been building,the one between usthe one we’ve been buildingfor years, perhapsout of some senseof right and boundary,perhaps out of habit. One morningwe will wake upand let our empty handshang empty at our sides.Perhaps they will rise,as empty thingssometimes dowhen blownby the wind.Perhaps they simplywill not rememberhow…
Who turns this into that? Sound into noise? Aroma into odor? Taste into pleasure or disgust? Who turns yes into no? Grace into disgrace? Who turns the present into the past? Who turns the now into the not-now? As-it-is into as-it-should-be? Silence into restlessness? Stillness into boredom? The ordinary into the menial? Who turns pain…
Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets’ towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a…
It is said that before entering the sea a river trembles with fear. She looks back at the path she has traveled, from the peaks of the mountains, the long winding road crossing forests and villages. And in front of her, she sees an ocean so vast, that to enter there seems nothing more than…
Last night as I was sleeping, I dreamt—marvelous error!— that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures. by Antonio Machado This is a part of the longer poem by Antonio Machado, who is seen by many as one…
Earth, I thank you for the pleasure of your language You’ve had a hard time bringing it to me from the ground to grunt thru the noun To all the way feeling seeing smelling touching —awareness I am here! by Anne Spencer I was touched by this little poem, with its gratitude and emerging…